


Booty Swing

by i_feel_electric



Category: Big Bang (Band), GTOP - Fandom, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, Burlesque, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:00:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_feel_electric/pseuds/i_feel_electric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seunghyun hates his job. And Jiyong, the painfully shy delivery boy that brings sandwiches to his office three days a week, is the only thing keeping him from jumping off of the roof. Little does he know that Jiyong is not exactly what he seems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Booty Swing

 

 

 

 

It's 10:30 in the morning and Seunghyun is sitting in his office with his forehead smashed against the hard surface of his desk. His arms dangle, lifeless, between his splayed legs and he toys at the laces of one of his black oxfords with a lazy finger. He had to come into work early today for a meeting, and it's only been two and a half hours, but to him it feels like ten years. He hates this. Being an adult. Being responsible. He just wants to go home and sit on the couch and read books until he forgets about reality and the bills stacking up on his kitchen table. Seunghyun turns his head to the side, cheek squishing down on top of a pile of invoices as he looks at the clock on the wall and heaves the most tired of sighs.  _10:31? For the love of god go faster._  But time isn't listening. And the longer he stares the slower the hands on the clock seem to tick by.

 

A knock on his door startles him and he jerks up from his desk, one of the invoices sticking to his face. He bats it away just as his boss peeks his balding, sunburnt head into his office. Seunghyun's back is ramrod straight as he gives the man his best impression of someone who gives a shit.

 

“Seunghyun,” Mr. Dunlay drawls, somehow managing to look simultaneously bored and angry. “As soon as you're done entering those buyers, I need the Vicker Steel policy on my desk. This was supposed to be finished yesterday. Pick up the slack or I'll have you answering phones for the rest of your pathetic existence.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“And what did I tell you about getting a goddamn haircut? This company has an image to uphold. You look like a college drop-out with no future. Oh wait. _..you already are._ ”

 

Seunghyun grits his teeth and wishes he could set Mr. Dunlay's fat head on fire just by virtue of wanting it badly enough.

 

“I'll get right on that, Richard,” he says, no hint of death in his voice. He mentally congratulates himself.

 

“Uh-huh, sure. Just remember the policy, Mr. Choi. No later than noon.”

 

The door shuts with a soft, passive-aggressive click and Seunghyun celebrates the man's leaving with his middle finger raised stiffly into the air.

 

“ _Fuck my life_ ,” he groans into his hands and exhales.

 

Though it inspires a seething indignation, the quip about being a college drop-out is true. Seunghyun never finished school, yeah, but it doesn't mean he's never going to. It also doesn't mean he's an idiot, which is how Mr. Dunlay clearly thinks of him. He can taste the vitriol in the back of his throat. All the words he has to hold back every single day eating away at his insides. He could probably run this company from the comfort of his own bed, dick in one hand, glass of whiskey in the other. Seunghyun huffs at the thought.  _Wouldn't that be lovely_? But after months of job-hunting, this position was the only one offered to him. He would have been a complete and utter nutcase not to take it. Lacking that ridiculous, little sheet of paper that's supposed to validate his existence in today's workforce has given him more trouble than he ever expected.

 

Turning to his computer, Seunghyun sighs again and gets back to work, fingers tapping away at the keyboard. His eyes flick over to the digital clock in the bottom right-hand corner.  _10:40_.  _An hour and twenty minutes_. He's not even thinking about Mr. Dunlay anymore. He's thinking about lunch. It's Wednesday, which means the deli across town is delivering sandwiches. He's not thinking about the sandwiches, either, even though the chicken salad is actually really fucking good. No, Seunghyun is thinking about the precious creature who delivers those sandwiches. The awkward, shy, and stupidly beautiful kid with bedroom eyes and graceful fingers.

 

They've exchanged maybe two dozen words, give or take, since he began working here three months ago. Consisting almost entirely of “Hello”, “Thank you”, “Yes”, “No”, and “What was that? You want me to fuck you over my desk? Oh, I'd be delighted”. Except that last one was entirely in Seunghyun's head and usually played on an endless loop long after the kid had left the building. He only sort of wishes his life was a really bad gay porno. But he does think he's cute. And he thinks about asking him out for a drink every second of the day that he isn't thinking about buyer numbers and insurance policies and manila envelopes and hole-punchers.

 

Seunghyun's eyes trail down to the clock at the bottom of his screen again.  _10:59_.  _Wow, I hate everything._  He rubs at his eyes and forces himself to keep typing, keep clicking, keep distracting himself so he stops checking the goddamn time. One more hour. One more hour, and he can non-flirt with the gorgeous sandwich delivery boy for thirty seconds, then watch the kid blush and trip over his own feet when Seunghyun smiles in farewell. It's the highlight of his afternoon every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. He wouldn't miss it for anything.

 

*

 

“Hey, sweet stuff,” Chaerin greets him with a wave and a sly smirk the second he opens his door.

 

Seunghyun jolts, one hand pressed to his racing heart. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

 

She has the nerve to actually appear apologetic, twisting her cascading, blonde locks in perfectly manicured fingers. He takes in the second skin of her pencil skirt and thinks Mr. Dunlay must be having a very good day, indeed.

 

“Sorry,” she sighs.

 

“Lying doesn't suit you, Chaerin.”

 

Her left eyebrow skyrockets, arching sharply. “Neither does that tie.”

 

Seunghyun glances down at the skinny, navy blue accessory and frowns. She may have a point.

 

“Touche.”

 

“So listen...” Chaerin begins and immediately he knows where this is heading.

 

“Nope.”

 

“Seunghyun, c'mon, you have no idea what I'm about to say.”

 

“Oh, but I do. You're about to wrangle me into going out with your insane friends.”

 

“They're not  _that_  crazy.”

 

He gives her a pointed look and she rolls her heavily lined eyes.

 

“Okay whatever, but you really need to come with us tonight.”

 

“Give me one good reason why I should give up a quiet evening of Walt Whitman and a bottle of scotch for  _you_.”

 

Chaerin slides closer, wrapping her long fingers around his boring tie. She gazes at him through the fan of her thick lashes and smiles a little too prettily. Seunghyun swallows and tries to back away but he's actually already up against the wall so–

 

“Because your dick will thank me.”

 

With some unholy combination of a snort and laugh, he removes Chaerin's grip on his tie and smooths a hand down his pale blue button-up. He's in the middle of opening his mouth to make some lewd comment about not being a cat person when there's movement in the corner of his eye. The front door is swinging open, bringing with it his saving grace: Sandwich Boy.

 

Seunghyun's lips spread in a slow smile as he pushes off from the wall. “Speaking of my dick...”

 

“Seunghyun,” she calls, exasperated, arms crossed over her chest.

 

“What?”

 

“ _Well?_ ”

 

“Yeah, okay fine. Text me.” He waves his hand in dismissal, already walking away.

 

Chaerin comes very close to squealing in victory, he can hear the high-pitched whine dying in the back of her throat as she restrains the urge.

 

“You won't regret this, Choi.”

 

“Mhmm,” he hums to himself, making his way down the hall. “That's what you said last time.”

 

Seunghyun watches the delivery boy from the deli turn the corner, basket hanging at the crook of his elbow and gaze lowered, as he strolls toward the dining area. He attempts to fight back a silly grin, but of course he fails. The kid's too adorable, with his oversized sweater and ruffled bed-head, and Seunghyun has to stop himself from fantasizing about running his fingers through that short-cropped hair. But his grin falls the moment he spots Steve at the other end of the hallway, the asshole from PR with the fake Rolex and never-ending parade of cheap suits. And before he can even think to do anything, Steve's already got his foot stretched out and sandwich boy goes down with a short yelp of surprise.

 

“Oh for fuck's sake,” Seunghyun mutters.  _Are we back in the sandbox, now?_

 

Steve is laughing with two of his sleazy doppelgangers as they wander off like nothing happened. Seunghyun scowls and lets out a sigh, running a hand through his long hair.  _Prick_. Which is a gross understatement but Sandwich Boy is still on the ground and the right thing to do would be to see if he's okay, however Seunghyun is frozen to the spot.

 

The words “golden” and “opportunity” flit through his mind. No one else is around to witness him swan dive into an empty swimming pool. No one will care if he makes an ass out of himself, except for him, but he's used to that.  _You have nothing to lose. Grow some balls, Choi._  Seunghyun closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and then jogs closer to help the poor kid up from the floor.

 

“Can you stand?” He asks, crouched beside his sprawled form.

 

The boy nods and grimaces, pushing himself onto his knees. Seunghyun takes him by the arm and hoists him upright, careful not to step on any escaped food items. The heat that seeps into his fingers from the contact with the soft material and the warm skin underneath lingers. Seunghyun swallows and shoves his hand into his pocket. Dusting himself off, the boy tosses him a hesitant smile.

 

“Thanks,” he says, voice so faint Seunghyun almost doesn't catch it.

 

“I'd apologize on behalf of the neanderthals but they don't even deserve the courtesy.” Seunghyun tries to catch those bedroom eyes but the boy stubbornly keeps his gaze focused on the ugly carpet. “Do you need anything?”

 

He receives a tiny shake of the head in answer. An awkward pause stretches out between them as they stand there and Seunghyun is fumbling for something to say. He should ask for his name. He should ask for his number. He shouldn't push him up against the filing cabinets lining the wall and kiss him senseless but he really really wants to. The boy fidgets under his intense scrutiny and Seunghyun almost feels bad for staring. He just can't help himself.

 

“Um...” he begins.  _Real smooth_.

 

But the boy is gathering the few items that spilled from the basket when he fell. And then he's digging around for one of the saran-wrapped sandwiches and holding it out. Seunghyun admires the flash of wrist, the slender fingers. He takes the sandwich and smiles.

 

“Thank you.”

 

The boy nods again, biting the plump swell of his bottom lip. Seunghyun wants to crawl out of his own skin.

 

“You don't talk much, do you.”

 

A gentle noise of amusement resonates from the boy's mouth and he blushes, cheekbones glowing with a dusting of pink.  _Jesus, you are so cute_ , Seunghyun thinks, and he realizes his silly grin is back.

 

He finds it hard to care.

 

“It's all right, I talk enough for two people anyway,” he murmurs.

 

Seunghyun watches the boy give him a furtive glance and his heart twinges in his chest.  _Ugh, your eyes._  They're a deep brown. Warm. Intelligent. The color of roasted coffee beans and burnt sugar. He could get lost in them forever with no hope of being rescued and he is totally okay with that. Because there's just  _something_  about him. Something beyond the pretty face and painfully shy behavior. And Seunghyun is desperate to find out what that something is.

 

“I have to, uh...” The boy interrupts the poetic nonsense in his head and gestures to the basket.

 

“Shit. Of course.” Seunghyun winces, rubbing the back of his neck. “I'm sorry.”

 

“No...no, don't be,” the boy extends a hand to reassure him, but retracts it just as fast, fingers gripping the hem of his sweater tightly.

 

“Okay. I won't.” Seunghyun's lips are once again spreading wide of their own volition and he's positive he looks like an idiot right now. “See you on Friday, then.”

 

The kid nods a third time, head bowed to hide his own smile, and almost walks into the wall as he turns to leave. Seunghyun hears him laugh nervously and then he's gone. The breath he isn't aware he's been holding leaves him in a rush. For their first almost-conversation, that could have gone much worse. It also could have gone much better but Seunghyun isn't about to complain. He throws the wrapped sandwich up into the air and catches it, still grinning. No, he's not going to complain at all.

 

*

 

Seunghyun walks into the club at 10:24pm. He's late, but it's not his fault because the train was delayed and he didn't look up the address, so he was stuck with Chaerin's shitty directions. The first thing he notices as he hops down a narrow flight of concrete stairs is that this is definitely nothing like the places they normally frequent. There's graffiti splashed over every inch of the walls, framed posters of past events that look like circus flyers from the 1920s, and glitter.  _Everywhere._  Seunghyun scratches at his neck as he wanders along the dimly lit hall to the main room, still finding bits of hair from when he got it chopped off earlier. It was a moment of weakness and he's not sure if he regrets it yet. Though the woman who cut it had smiled widely at him in the mirror, then cracked a joke about leaving her husband, and Seunghyun had blushed so hard.

 

He stops at the second set of doors, the faint strains of some thumping dance music squeezing through the thick metal. There's raucous laughter, and then applause, and he has no fucking clue what he's getting himself into but life is short and he really wants to get drunk right now. So he pushes his way in and Chaerin has to pick his jaw up from the ground when he eventually finds their table.

 

“Careful, sweet stuff,” she purrs into his ear over the loud bass beats. “Leave your mouth open long enough and you're gonna start collecting more than just flies.”

 

“Chae, where the hell am I?”

 

“Welcome to Wonderland.” She beams, arm sweeping out in a grand gesture that disturbs the fringe dripping from her cocktail dress.

 

Chaerin sits and pulls him into the seat beside her, shoving a cold beer into his hand. Some of her friends smile and wave from across the table and all Seunghyun can do is respond with a dazed nod.  _Wonderland_  is a trip, to put it mildly. A burlesque club with a modern flare. Most of the patrons are dressed to the nines in costumes. Lots of bowler hats and bow ties. Corsets and high heels.  _And that's just the men_. Seunghyun gulps from the bottle clutched in his fingers and suddenly he doesn't feel so out of place in his black waistcoat as he watches a perky brunette on stage tease the crowd with quick flashes of her supple, tanned skin.

 

“You look really good,” Chaerin says, tugging at one of his rolled-up sleeves.

 

“I'd tell you the same, but your ego's already bigger than three city blocks.” He grins when she swats at his arm.

 

She doesn't deny it either, which makes him laugh, and he kisses her on the cheek.

 

“Thanks for inviting me.”

 

“I knew you would love it.”

 

“Let's not get ahead of ourselves, I've only been here for five minutes.”

 

Chaerin snorts. “It would be longer if you'd shown up on time.”

 

He laughs again and wraps an arm around her shoulders. They clink bottles and keep drinking and the perky brunette becomes a trio of toned men. Toned men in white shirts and black ties, legs clad in nothing but garters and lace stockings. Seunghyun's eyes widen considerably. Chaerin gives him a meaningful shove.

 

“Okay, okay I love it,” he concedes and she just throws her head back and cackles, the bright tone of her mirth blending in with the noise of bar chatter and upbeat music pounding from the speakers.

 

An hour later, there's a break in the performances. Seunghyun is six beers in and feeling languid. His shirt is generously unbuttoned, waistcoat hanging open as he leans forward on the table and swaps horrific childhood traumas with one of Chaerin's friends. Paige is tiny and delicate and looks more like a living doll than a human. But it's when she opens her mouth, spewing expletives like a drunk sailor, that Seunghyun finds himself utterly charmed. He's just about to start telling her of the time his older sister tried to flush his head in the toilet when Chaerin elbows him in the side, face glowing with excitement.

 

“Seunghyun, you're gonna want to pay attention to this.” She jerks her chin towards the stage. “Trust me.”

 

Chaerin's got this weird, knowing twinkle in her eyes and Seunghyun is immediately suspicious. He slouches back in his seat, turning to look at the wide, elevated platform. The room goes dark and the bar goes quiet. A spotlight flicks on, illuminating a single figure sitting astride a wooden chair. He can't see their face because their back is to the audience, but he's curious now. No one stopped talking for any of the other performers. What makes this one so special? Seunghyun's gaze takes in the top hat perched at an angle on their head, the tailored, white dress shirt clinging to slight curves; the black suspenders, tight, ripped jeans, and wing-tipped shoes. The music begins, some remixed swing number that already has his toes tapping. Fifteen seconds in and the performer pops up from the chair, tossing a coy look over their shoulder.  _His_ shoulder. Seunghyun swears his heart is about to beat right through his goddamned chest because he  _knows_  those smoky, black rimmed eyes. Knows those pink, pouty lips and graceful fingers.  _Holy shit it's Sandwich Boy_.

 

And Sandwich Boy shakes his hips to the beat, spinning away from the chair with a smirk and twirling a silver-tipped cane. He vaguely registers a whispered “I told you so” from Chaerin, but he's too riveted to respond. His mind is blown. Seunghyun's hands grip his thighs and he leans forward to look closer just in case he's actually hallucinating. But he isn't. Even with the make-up, the fake eyelashes, the clothes, it's impossible to mistake the boy for anyone else. Seunghyun exhales shakily, hypnotized by the way that body is moving. Every inch of the shy, awkward, bumbling delivery boy is gone. Instead replaced with this, this–  _fuck_ , he doesn't even know. All he can do is watch as the kid dips and sways and bounces. As he ditches the top hat and shimmies and does  _backflips_ , expression forever playful and teasing and sexy. The boy works the room like a pro, throwing members of the crowd kisses and making exaggerated faces to go along with his campy yet impressive dance routine. Confidence rolls off of him in thick waves and Seunghyun can hardly believe what he's seeing with his own eyes.

 

Those pretty hands reach up to unclasp the bowtie around his neck as the song shifts into a breakdown of synths and sampled vocals. The boy whips it around in circles, stepping toward the edge of the stage, stepping toward Seunghyun.  _Oh god._  He didn't think about this. About being recognized. But the boy's warm eyes have found him in the dark and the salacious smile that appears on his face without hesitation elicits a whimper from deep in Seunghyun's throat.  _Shit._  He's gifted a bold wink just before the boy bites his lip and flings the bowtie into his lap, strutting away.

 

“Fuck me,” Seunghyun groans under his breath.

 

With the eyes of a hawk he watches the suspenders fall to dangle from swaying hips. The shirt follows, one of the boy's hands so, so slowly unbuttoning its way down as he spins the cane in the other like it weighs nothing. Smooth skin is revealed, a sheen of sweat coating his chest and his flat stomach. The boy yanks the fabric from the waistband of his jeans, gaze honed in on Seunghyun as he drops the cane and slides the shirt off of his shoulders, tossing it aside with practiced ease and never missing a beat.

 

Seunghyun is having an intensely difficult time remembering how to exist.

 

That lean body undulates and glides across the stage effortlessly, feet moving in such complicated patterns that it's hard to believe he almost walked into a wall earlier this afternoon. Limbs float, hips swivel and pop. Long fingers bury themselves in messy hair as he tips his head back and Seunghyun sucks in a quiet gasp. The golden stage lights caress the boy's skin, making him glow brighter, making him radiant. Every tiny shift of muscle over bone has him holding his breath because the way that spine curves, the way those arms define beauty of movement, is breathtaking. And even though the routine is meant to be fun, Seunghyun can clearly read how much he loves this in the elegance of his body. In the joyful expression on his gorgeous face. It's mesmerizing and he is so lost to the experience and the adrenaline in his veins that nothing else matters. Only fluid motion and the constant presence of the boy's eyes on his.

 

After what seems like ages, the song winds down, and the panting performer takes a bow to thunderous applause. Seunghyun can't even think let alone clap at this point, his brain still stuck on glistening collarbones and red lips and the way those torn jeans hug that pert little ass. The boy grins his thanks and sends a final smirk to Seunghyun, then scampers offstage.

 

“He's not done yet, don't worry,” Chaerin reassures him and he honestly doesn't believe he can handle a second round.

 

True to her word, a few minutes pass by and another song starts up. A little more sultry than the last, bass beats melding perfectly with the bright, blaring horns. The star of the evening comes cartwheeling out from the wings, barefoot, and wearing nothing but sheer boy-shorts. Seunghyun's pulse races, eyes trailing over slender thighs. Over jutting bones and dusky nipples. The boy drops into a crouch, knees spread and arms raised high, then bounces back up. He does pirouettes and back-bends and Seunghyun's mouth is drier than a fucking desert. Because he starts fixating on things. Like the sparse trail of hair that disappears into the transparent material hugging his narrow hips. Or the shimmer of sweat as it drips from his neck to live in the hollows of his abdomen.

 

Just when he thinks it can't get any worse, the boy is staring at him with a wicked intent in his eyes as he jumps off the edge of the stage and saunters to their table, licking his lips.

 

A hand brushes across his shoulders as the boy continues to dance. Just...directly in front of him and good god he can see  _everything_. Those lips curl and the boy spins around, dipping low at the waist with his back arched and his ass in Seunghyun's face. That ass shakes back and forth in time with the music and several people around him giggle and cheer. He tightens his hold on the bowtie that he hasn't let go of once and forces himself not to reach out and  _touch_.

 

But he doesn't have to because the boy is twirling and then straddling his lap with a blissful grin, arms thrown around his neck.

 

“Nice haircut,” the boy murmurs, mouth hovering at his ear.

 

Seunghyun looks into his eyes when he pulls away, dumbfounded and speechless. He's overwhelmed. His chest heaves, each inhale bringing with it the strong scent of the boy's skin. It's sharp and intoxicating. The heavenly, sweat-drenched dancer pops his shoulders to the beat, huge smile never faltering. Each movement makes Seunghyun's heart throb. They gaze at one another as the music swells around them, the boy swaying and rocking his hips gently. It's enough to make Seunghyun shudder and he does, without shame, the ripple of pleasure skittering down his spine. Something flickers in those warm brown eyes and then the boy's fingers are tilting his chin up, those full lips pressing to his mouth, and the whole world kind of shorts out like a bad connection until all he can process is soft heat. The kiss only lasts a moment, the boy giving his cheek a tender stroke while the crowd around them claps and hollers. Seunghyun hears Chaerin shouting something obscene and he laughs. In disbelief. In awe. In euphoria. His mouth tingles and his face is so hot.  _Oh wow._  A hand ruffles Seunghyun's hair and the lithe dancer slips from his lap, bouncing back to the stage to finish his routine until the music fades. To say the applause was explosive would be doing the roaring sound that reverberated throughout the wide space a disservice.

 

Seunghyun's eyes are still on the stage when the clapping fades and the constant hum of bar noise pushes against the walls. His thoughts are a broken record, stuck on questioning his own reality. He hopes he wakes up with a massive hangover just to prove that tonight actually happened.

 

“You okay there, big boy?” Chaerin touches his arm and he jumps, coming back to himself.

 

“What?” He blinks. “Yeah. Just...y'know, shell-shocked.”

 

Her smirk is so self-satisfied that Seunghyun should have known this was all a set-up from the beginning. She squeezes his shoulder.

 

“Why don't you go talk to him?”

 

“I don't know, Chae.”

 

“Seunghyun, that boy just kissed you in front of a hundred people. Go. Now.”

 

“But–“

 

“No.” Chaerin grabs his hand and pulls him out of his seat. “I'm sick and tired of watching you make puppy-dog eyes at each other.”

 

“Wait, what?”

 

“Oh, shut up,” she huffs, dragging him through the crowd to a heavy, red velvet curtain on the left side of the stage.

 

Without any warning, Chaerin shoves him forward and he goes stumbling into the thick fabric, skidding to a stop on the other side. Seunghyun freezes. The long hallway is mostly empty, a few of the performers coming and going from various dressing rooms and hardly sparing him a glance. Racks of costumes clutter the narrow passage, overflowing with feathers and sequins and slinky dresses. Laughter carries, light and happy, from the end of the hall and Seunghyun should probably just turn around and go back to the table. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't even know who to ask for. Looking down at his hands, he rubs the material of the bowtie between his fingers. Until this moment, he never would have pegged himself as a coward.

 

 _What happened to “golden opportunities”, Choi?_   _What are you afraid of?_

 

Seunghyun takes a deep breath and starts walking down the hallway, steps hesitant and small. The first two open doors he passes are full of people and he would stop to check for the boy if he wasn't already so fucking nervous. So he keeps moving, only to have his heart go off like a double bass drum when someone latches onto his shoulder from behind. Seunghyun spins around. It's the same perky brunette that was on stage when he arrived.  _At least she's wearing clothes now_.

 

“Last door on the left.” She smiles.

 

“Huh?”

 

“His dressing room. You're looking for Jiyong, right?”

 

_Jiyong._

 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, thank you.”

 

“Don't mention it, sweetheart.”

 

And then she winks, giving his shoulder a little nudge and he laughs, heat creeping into his cheeks. Seunghyun is starting to wonder if this is all one big cosmic conspiracy. But if it results in being allowed to see Jiyong more– _ugh even your name is cute_ – he's not terribly upset about it. Turning away from the brunette, he makes it to the last door on the left without suffering any more heart palpitations. Well, almost. Because when Seunghyun raises his hand to knock, his heartbeat feels like a hammer against his ribs and it's hard to breathe, but he knocks anyway.

 

When the door swings open and Jiyong is standing there in a loose-fitting t-shirt and skinny jeans, feet still bare and hair still messy, all Seunghyun wants to do is kiss him. A want that sits heavy in his gut like a tangible thing. So he does, letting the bowtie sail to the floor with a soft rustle of cotton and polyester as he steps into the other boy's space. He cups his hands over warm skin, thumbs resting gently against hard bone, and registers the flutter of mascara-thick lashes right before their lips touch. Jiyong is warm air in the Summer just after it rains, light but heady and slightly sweet. Seunghyun's head feels empty but everything else is so full. He's hyper-aware aware of the fingers digging into his hips and the way their chests graze as they sway closer. Jiyong flicks his tongue out to tease and he has to retreat or never come back at all.

 

“Hi,” he murmurs, smile tugging at his mouth.

 

Jiyong grins and slides a hand around to press into the small of Seunghyun's back, bringing him flush. His breath hitches.

 

“Hi.”

 

The world becomes soft brown eyes that radiate humor and shy affection. When no more words are spoken they both laugh at the same time and the giddy flutter in his stomach grows. Seunghyun dips his head and captures Jiyong's lips in another kiss and thinks that maybe, for once, he doesn't need to have anything else to say.

 

 

* * *

The songs that Jiyong dances to are as follows:

1st: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f_7d8e_mC9U>[  
](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0GtDipOmQZA)

2nd: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9xsoCki4pTk>

 


End file.
